6: Warning

Someone taps my arm.

It takes me a good five seconds to open my eyes, and a bit longer to figure out where I am. I see a flash of bright red, then bright blue. Another tap.

Jason shakes his head. "You can't be such a heavy sleeper around here. You never know when someone will creep in and point a gun at you."

I rub my eyes. "What good will waking up do then?"

He really thinks about this. He scratches his beard. "At least you'll look the killer in the eye, you know? You'll know why and who. Everyone deserves to know why they're getting whacked, and by whom." He sighs wistfully. "Devon wired some money for your wardrobe. I can't go shopping with you, I've got more important shit to do. Just take a cab downtown and you'll find the stores. Get here by 11:30, because you have a meeting with Keller at 12:00."

This news makes me sit upright. "Which Keller?"

"The boss, Yara. Ethan talked shit about you, so before you sign the employment contract, you'll have a week to prove yourself. Like a trial. He'll say all this to your face, I'm just giving you a heads up."

"So I might not get the job?" This isn't what I wanted to hear. I never thought I wouldn't get the job. Not getting the job is out of the question. I've already come so far.

"Damien is a grade A asshole, Yara. He has high expectations and demands absolute efficiency. I saw him fire this cocktail waitress at one of his restaurants because her skirt had a wrinkle on it. It wasn't even visible. You've got to really show you're eager to please, or you'll be sent home." He shakes his head. "That's why you need a new wardrobe. Go to the best stores, get some pretty dresses. Tops. Whatever. There are always attendants there, so they'll help out. Don't get anything too flashy or they'll wonder where you're getting the money."

My brain spins with all this information, but I got the message. Before Jason leaves the apartment, he hands me an envelope with a wad of cash. I don't think I've ever held this much money. It won't even fit in my purse, so I leave about half under the mattress and take the rest with me.

I do as he instructed and take a cab downtown. Street Mall, I think he says. I don't think I'll ever get used to all the different names. Besides, I don't know how long I'll be staying.

Some stores just end up being more pricey than I ever thought possible and the women who supposedly 'help' me always end up showing me the most expensive items available. I don't buy much, but I do invest in a new bag and some hair products. I also buy a new flat iron.

I keep glancing at my phone to check the time. It's ten when I get back to the apartment. Around ten fifty when I'm done curling my hair. I decided to wear jeans and a black top I bought for a small fortune. I look much better than I did last night, that's for sure. I also add some mascara and eyeliner.

After twenty minutes, Jason picks me up. He takes some time going through everything I bought. "This is good. Come on, you don't want to be late."

I get in the passenger's seat. Jason starts talking. "Ethan didn't like you very much, but Damien makes these kinds of decisions lately so you don't have to worry. After Devon sent those four morons, he's been paranoid. They're on the lookout for more spies."

When he stops in front of a large building, I realize it's a different one. "This is just a lounge, for important meetings and such," Jason explains.

We get inside. I'm twenty minutes early. Jason tells me he'll be right back and stalks off. I can't sit still, I'm shaking my legs restlessly. The fact that I'll be finally meeting this Damien Keller is making me have a tiny panic attack. If his cousin Ethan is a jerk and is supposedly the nice one, then I'm in trouble. And I can't afford to lose this job. There's a lot at stake. I need to get that name.

The door to my left opens and a petite woman walks out. She's around fifty, maybe more. She smiles brightly and I feel a little better. "He's waiting for you, dear."

I stand and my legs tremble. I walk past her to get into the office. It's not even twelve yet, so it's a good thing I came early. The first detail I notice is that the office is fairly spacious, and every decor in here looks expensive. Paintings, vases, furniture, everything.

There's a long table, and when my eyes land on the two men in the room, I momentarily freeze. Ethan's here. Jason told me he wouldn't be making any decision, so what's the meaning of this? The other man must be Damien. The boss. He has a cleft chin and azure eyes. His hair is really dark and slicked back.

I wasn't expecting both of them to be here, so I can feel panic settling deep in my bones. When I turn my back to them to close the door, I shut my eyes firmly and take a breath.

I turn around and they're both watching me. I don't think smiling would even be considered polite here. I keep a straight face and move closer to the table. I put a hand on a chair and move it so I can take a seat. It makes a screeching sound that makes me cringe.

"Please remain standing," Damien says abruptly, and I'm surprised by how deep his voice is. "You were not given permission to sit."

I feel myself blushing. "Oh, I'm sorry." I distance myself from the chair and clutch my new purse. There's an open notebook in front of him and he has a pen in hand. I notice that the initials KF are also on it. I can see why Sandra said Ethan is the nice one. This man is contantly frowning, there's a permanent line right between his brows. The way he looks at me makes me want to avert my gaze and stare at the floor instead, but I know how important it is to maintain eye contact.

"I'm told you're from a small town," he says and writes something down. It's my name, Yara Huxley, and he underlines it. "Is this your first time in LA?"

"Yes, it is."

"Where are you from?" I tell him. "You've come a long way. And Jason told you about this opening?"

"Yes," I say, hoping to not sound uneasy and uncertain.

"And what made you think you were cut out for the job?" He's implying something behind this comment and I know exactly what it is, but if I allow myself to be intimidated by him I'll mess this up.

"I worked at a bar before. In my hometown."

He clicks the pen twice. "Do you have a recommendation letter? A CV?"

I didn't think about that. Devon didn't tell me it would be necessary. Besides, how would I tell Donnie to write one under Yara Huxley and not Amelia George? "I don't. I didn't think it would be necessary." I can tell from the expression on his face that this was the wrong fucking answer.

"You didn't think it would be necessary?" he repeats my answer slowly. He sits back and stares at me with bewilderment. "You move to a new city without any recommendations, no CV. How did you plan on applying for a job, Miss Huxley?"

I lick my lips. "I only moved because Jason told me he had a job--"

"Listen here, idiot," he interrupts me. "I don't care what your excuses are. Without a recommendation letter, you can't prove you've worked at a bar before. And that would explain why you almost broke a twenty thousand dollar whiskey bottle."

Twenty thousand dollars? I never thought whiskey could be so expensive. And that's a slight exaggeration. I just tripped. I clear my throat. "I'll do better. That won't happen again."

He taps the pen against the notebook. I can't tell if my response pleased him or not. "You were late yesterday. Is that not so?"

"The bus--" I can't even finish my sentence. The way they're looking at me silences me instantly. He and his cousin share a look. Damien looks at me again, with his bright eyes that do not match his personality at all. They're too bright.

"We'll give you a week. That's all you're going to get. If you're late again, you know what will happen."

"Thank you," I say. I don't wait to be excused. When I get outside, Jason's already waiting for me. "Don't look so sad, kid."

"I'm not--"

"Jason!" a man runs in our direction. Instinctively, I cower behind him. "Call Damien. Rhett was picked up by the cops."

"When?"

"Last night."

Jason turns to me. "Go home, Yara. I don't know when I'll be back, but if I'm not home by seven thirty, take a cab to nightclub. I'll send you the address."

Sure enough, he didn't show up. I had to remind him to send me the address and he took a while to respond. I have approximately forty minutes to get there in time, but the traffic. I should have left much earlier. I literally watch every minute tick by and I can't believe I'll be late again.

"Please," I urge the driver. I'm desperate. I need to get there on time or I'm done for.

"There's nothing I can do, miss."

I look out the window. I remember this road, and I think the nightclub is a few blocks away. I pay the driver what I owe him and I start running. I have five minutes to get ready and be by the bar. I round a corner and for a moment, I think I'm lost. Despair starts kicking in, but right down the road, I see the flashing lights.

I run until I get to where the guards are standing. They stare at me trying to catch my breath as I dig into my purse for my ID card. There's a long line of people trying to get in, so it's almost opening time. I hand it to one of them and he lets me through. I change into my uniform and get to the bar. To my dismay, all the girls have already started prepping for the night.

And Damien Keller is sitting right there.